


cut you with my splintered heart

by titaniaeli



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Character Death, Cluster As Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Multi, Protective Cluster, References to Drugs, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:51:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniaeli/pseuds/titaniaeli
Summary: The cluster’s reactions to Michael Gorski’s death.





	cut you with my splintered heart

Riley came to him first, her hazel eyes gleaming with a reflection of his grief. He reached out instinctively, like a plant aching for sunlight. She slipped into his arms, cradling him against her chest and he melted.

He felt limp and boneless, tore from his tether. He has cried enough, until his tears have run out. He couldn’t cry anymore, but his body still trembled violently.

She stroked his hair carefully, her eyes welling with tears once more at the hurt etched into his face. She could feel his grief like a rolling windstorm in the pit of her belly, crushing every thought and sense in its path, until all she could think about was _he’s gone, he’s gone, **he’s gone**_ – until she wasn’t sure if it’s Will’s or her voice screaming denials in her head.

She slipped into the bed, pressing close to his back, her hand curving around his hip protectively as she pulled him close to her body. She closed her eyes, resting her chin atop his head. She could feel every small shake in his body, could hear the stifled gasps vibrating in his chest.

She wished she could be physically here with Will. This was not enough. This was not enough.

Her hand splayed out over his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm and beat of his heart. She swore she could feel it break under her palm.

* * *

 

Sun came like the silent storm, black clouds rolling across her visage and thunder in her eyes. She stilled his trembling hands, stopping him from reaching for the heroin powder that would drown out his grief.

Gently, with soft hands and calloused knuckles, she took his only relief from him and lay him down on the bed.

Her eyes stared at him like a violent tempest in the darkness, dark lashes dewed with tears that she would never allow to fall, her own grief for her lost father mirrored in them.

She has no words of comfort for him, not that he was looking for them. Nor needed them. Like her, he needed the pain to anchor him to earth, even if he sought to escape them through drugs.

She did not assure him that things would be alright, because it’s not. _It’s not._ He has lost his father, and he wasn’t by his side. His father had died with him halfway across the world. His regrets tasted like ashes on Sun’s tongue, and she buried her fingers in his hair as he shook against her side.

Her fists were useless here. There were no enemies in front of her to fight or cut down. Just the intangible grief of a friend she could not touch or soothe. Her brutal hands were meant to fight, to protect. She has never known how to soothe.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. Not for his father’s death. Not for that, never for that.

Apologies would not bring back the dead. Apologies would not appease the living. She simply regretted not able to help console him in any way.

Luckily, they have never needed words to communicate. He shook his head numbly, watery eyes understanding. She wished that he would stop looking out for them, just for a moment, but it doesn’t surprise her. This time, though, she would look out for him. She slid lower down the headboard. With a light touch to his elbow, he instinctively dropped his head onto her shoulder.

* * *

 

When Will’s grief first hit her, the cup of coffee in her hand slipped between her fingers and shattered on the ground. Kala barely felt the hot liquid splashing over her feet. Tears immediately filled her eyes, rolling down her flushed cheeks like a river.

She muffled her choking cries behind a hand, squeezing her eyes shut as Will’s anguish wracked her body. She could see him curled in his bed, trembling like a leaf, yet his eyes remained unsettlingly clear.

He couldn’t cry, so she cried for him.

Loud, gut-wrenching sobs that shook her frame and blistered her throat raw. Until her father heard her cries and came searching for her.

“Kala, what’s wrong?” Sanyam Dandekar was a kind man. A man with a gentle, loving heart, and for a moment, she wished to share him with Will. To share that gentle heart with her friend. Instead, she cried even harder when she saw her father and ran into his open arms.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, felt his surprise and confusion in the gasp of his breath.

_Will. Will, please. I’m here. I’m here, please. It’s okay._

Will didn’t respond, and his grief was a gale in her chest, too consumed by the violence of his pain to hear her.

She hugged her father closer, breathed in the familiar scent of spices on his shirt and suddenly felt fiercely relieved and happy he’s here with her.

* * *

 

Capheus was the heat of Nairobi sun shining on his back and the sand twisting into his hair and crawling into his clothes.

For once, Will was silent in his protests about visiting his cluster. He tucked himself at the back of the matatu, curling into a small ball and ignoring any of Capheus’s attempts at small talk. So, he gave up trying to speak and sat down quietly beside Will.

The grief had frozen his expression, his eyes more steel grey than blue as he watched the people milled about outside the matatu. His skin felt cold when Capheus touched him lightly to adjust him to a more comfortable position. It’s like a chill had seeped into his skin and iced the blood in his veins.

Capheus doesn’t know if he could reach him anymore.

But he knew that this was Will trying to reach out to _him_. He doesn’t want words of comfort, of apologies. He doesn’t want to process his father’s death. He wanted to hide and run. He wanted to turn back time and goes back to Chicago with Riley.

Most importantly, he wanted to shield his pain from his cluster, so Capheus felt immeasurably honored that Will trusted him enough to come to him.

Will was Atlas trying to hold up the world, always wanting to keep his burdens to his chest and protect everyone. But this time, just for a moment, Capheus would take the weight of the world from his hands and alleviated the heavy load of his heart.

* * *

 

Wolfgang has no love lost for his own father. He couldn’t sympathize or relate to Michael Gorski’s death. But sharing headspace meant that he has no barriers raised against the crushing wave of anguish that rippled across his connection to Will and he found tears sliding down his own cheeks without conscious volition.

He hadn’t try to visit at first. He has never been good in giving comfort, and he knew that Will has no use for useless platitudes.

Dead was dead. There’s no words good enough to relieve the pain of death.

But then he felt a sudden surge of terror that made him sit up instantly. There was the barest flicker of fury, but it was mere pinpricks against the yawning darkness of fear and panic.

He rushed to Will’s side immediately, his own fright of _shit BPO has found him_ and _danger he’s in danger_ repeating in his head. He was still hyped on adrenaline when he saw the room in a mess – blankets strewn across the floor, table and chairs toppled over, glass shards cracking under his boots. His heartrate only calmed when he found Will sitting on the stairs leading up to the top floor, shaking uncontrollably.

“What happened?” He asked, crouching down beside Will.

“Whispers.”

Wolfgang cursed under his breath, rage bursting to life in his chest, crackling like sparks flying. Only a piece of shit like Whispers would do something like mocking someone who has just lost his father. He would wrap his hands around the damn bastard’s neck and throttle the shit out of him if he could.

“Is he gone?” He asked.

Will didn’t reply to his question, just looked up and blinked at him in confusion – as if he’s just registering Wolfgang’s presence.

“Stay.” Will did not beg, but it was close. “Please.”

Wolfgang does not do _this_. He’s not good in giving comfort, or consoling anyone. He’s awkward with seeing people’s grief and he does not like seeing tears.

But he stayed anyway.

* * *

 

Lito doesn’t like it when Will drugged himself to keep Whispers – and _them_ , for that matter – out of his head.  He could still distantly feel Will there, at the back of his mind, but it’s murky. Like trying to make out someone through a thick fog. The connection felt hazy, and Will’s ever bright, sharp mind was dulled and blunted by the heroin running through his veins.

It’s unsettling.

But he never thought he would hate something more than the drugs.

He really, really doesn’t like these blockers.

It’s like his connection with Will was abruptly cut off. One second, he was still there, floating aimlessly at the back of Lito’s mind until he’s called, and the next, he was just... gone.

The first time it happened, it scared the crap out of Lito.

So when he felt the familiar fogginess of Will’s presence returning, he immediately went to his side – just to make sure he’s okay. It wasn’t the small bag of heroin powder in Will’s hands that broke his heart, but the too pale complexion, dark eye bags under a tired, unfocused gaze and shoulders too thin under his sagging sweater.

“Oh, Will...” He said quietly, kneeling down in front of him to gently take the bag of heroin powder away. Will didn’t even protest, slumping further as his fingers clenched in to grip at empty space.

He gingerly shuffled Will onto the bed and draped the blanket over the listless man. He remained beside his friend, directing his attention to the phone in his hands, and only left when he felt Will’s breathing started to even out into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

Nomi knew it was for Will’s safety, but she hated that gloomy basement with its constant wet metal smell that he had to hide out in. It was nothing more than a prison.

She called for him one morning, and without a word, bundled him into her bed with blankets arranged around his shoulders. He made a small wordless noise of protest, but his movements were sluggish and slow, leaden with drugs in his veins. Her heart ached at the sight.

“Is he here?” Amanita asked softly, peering into the room.

When she nodded, her girlfriend entered the room silently and glanced at the bed.

“Hey, Will, I know Riley is still in Chicago and you’re all alone right now... which I don’t think you should—at this time. So don’t leave so quickly, okay? I mean, I think our loft is better than that shitty basement you’re living in currently. From what Nomi is saying, it’s no proper environment for a human being to be living in.” She was looking far too left from Will, but her intentions were clear and sincere.

“It’s okay.” Will protested weakly, but he was smiling. Just a faint quirk of his lips, but he looked far livelier than the day before. Nomi felt extremely lucky she had such an understanding and loving girlfriend.

Amanita placed the cup of hot chocolate on the table beside the bed and settled her laptop at the edge of the bed.

“Netflix?” She smiled, dropping down on Will’s other side.

Will cautiously took the cup of hot chocolate from Nomi, his hands trembling minutely.

“Can we watch Stranger Things?” He said hoarsely.

“He wants to watch Stranger Things.” Nomi said to her girlfriend.

Amanita threw them a thumb up and opened up Netflix.

It’s not long before Will started to drift off on Nomi’s shoulder, but he stayed awake long enough for season 1 to finish. Right before he disappeared, Nomi leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead, trying to give him all the strength she has.

He has helped her so many times, and this time, it’s her turn.


End file.
